


worst thing i could do

by Tator



Series: davenzi drabbles [8]
Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: Angst, Bad Parenting, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, heavy allusions to grease the musical and the 50's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 22:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tator/pseuds/Tator
Summary: David chuckled. “Yeah, dinner. It’s past ten o’clock. Or were you just too lazy to make yourself anything?”“Too lazy?” Matteo repeated slower than before, his head swimming around in his skull, just trying to catch onto any coherent thought besides the repetition oflazythat was twirling around like it was wearing red lipstick and a poodle skirt. He doesn’t think he floated down from the clouds above as much as crashed down onto the checkered floor with the juke box still playing, and people still spinning around him.





	worst thing i could do

**Author's Note:**

> for the request:  
I guess I'm in an angsty mood, but if you're interested in writing some hurt/comfort maybe with david saying something and not realizing matteo took it very seriously. Like "maybe if you weren't so lazy all the time haha" or something along those lines I'll be forever thankful!
> 
> you can find the original post [here](https://bagels-and-seagulls.tumblr.com/post/187011617728/i-guess-im-in-an-angsty-mood-but-if-youre) :)

Matteo was enjoying his day off from work, and night school, and stress with his parents by curling up in his arm chair and steadily working through the little bit of his stash he had left and listening to the radio just one notch too quiet to actually hear anything. He was up in the clouds at this point, floating up to the ceiling and thinking about twirling to an old juke box during the 50′s with skirts to wide and hair too stiff. He hummed _Grease Lighting_ under his breath, took another puff, and vaguely thought turnings up the radio. 

“Matteo?” 

Matteo hummed and felt a hand go through his hair. That was nice, he thought, that was really nice, and leaned into it. He forced his eyes open to look up at where David was smiling cheekily down at him, and he felt his own smile go wide at the pretty side above him. He closed his eyes again soon after, just not being able to handle the beauty of it all anymore. 

“Is this what you’ve been doing all day?” 

Matteo hummed again. 

“Have you even had any dinner yet, Mr. Florenzi?” 

“Dinner?” Matteo repeated. 

David chuckled. “Yeah, dinner. It’s past ten o’clock. Or were you just too lazy to make yourself anything?” 

“Too lazy?” Matteo repeated slower than before, his head swimming around in his skull, just trying to catch onto any coherent thought besides the repetition of _lazy_ that was twirling around like it was wearing red lipstick and a poodle skirt. He doesn’t think he floated down from the clouds above as much as crashed down onto the checkered floor with the juke box still playing, and people still spinning around him. 

“Yeah, lazy bones. Looks like you haven’t moved all day. Up,” David said, motioning for Matteo to get out of the chair. “Let’s get you some dinner and then off to bed.” 

Matteo moves slowly for the rest of the night, partially because of the weed still making it through his system, but mostly from the shock, the disappointment that was seeping its way into his bones that was telling him he just wasted his entire day, his entire day that he could have spent cleaning the house, or doing errands, or making it easier for David when he got home. Because David was just so nice and so patient and did everything for them all the time because Matteo was just _too lazy_, just a burden on both of them. Because all he was good for was filling their room up with smoke. 

He laid awake after dinner, counting David’s breaths, and thinking about ripped stockings, and empty cabinets, and the Thunderbirds, and dishes that were still in the sink. He thought about all the ways he could have spent his time, by doing the laundry, or sweeping the floors, or beating the rugs, or going to the store, but instead all he did was roll another joint and squish himself into various tight positions, replaying family sitcoms in his head. Eventually the itchy feeling in his chest became too much for him to handle, and he pulled himself out of bed, away from where David was leaning up against him in his sleep. 

He eyes the small pile of forgotten pots and pans in the sink and starts there, thinking about David’s little pout and small frown. He turns the water on hot and scrubs at the sides, rinses them, and scrubs them again for good measure. He clinks them quietly onto the dish rack, and moves to grab the bleach to scrub at the counters. 

Matteo makes his way through the apartment, as quiet as he can, filled with an anxious energy that makes his fingers shaky and his whole chest uneasy. Sitting still for more than one second, makes the arch of his feet start to burn, and all he can think is _too lazy, a burden, go away Matteo, go bother your mother, can’t you do anything in this godforsaken house, I have to do fucking everything around here, get off you ass and help me, lazy, ungrateful_\- 

He manages his way down to his basement, throws the clothes in laundry, and makes his way back up to wipe off their kitchen table. The laundry doesn’t take too long, just enough to finish the floors, and he folds it neatly into tight piles and manages to get all the clothes into their various places, keeping the lines of David’s shirts crisp and his own sweaters tucked in the bottom of the drawer. 

He makes his way back into the living room, and grabs the rugs to shake them out on the balcony. He wonders if the neighbors have a vacuum. He thinks that maybe they should buy a vacuum, but figures this was good enough for right now and puts them squarely back into their spots before heading back into the kitchen and starts scrubbing at the dishes again, thinking that he saw a spot or two still left on them, thinking that this wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t good enough, and he needed to start pulling his own weight, and there were dancers spinning around his head wearing leather pants, and David was just going to leave for someone who knew how to do the _fucking dishes_, someone who wasn’t _too lazy_-

“What are you doing up?”

Matteo turned just enough to see David yawning, squinting into the light of the kitchen, and scrubbing at one eye with the sleeve of his sweater. “Just… Just straightening up,” Matteo mumbled out and turned back to the dishes in his hand. 

“At four in the morning?” 

“I, uh, didn’t mean to wake you. Sorry.” 

“You didn’t…” David trails off. “It’s spotless in here, Teo. How long have you been cleaning?”

Matteo doesn’t answer, just keeps scrubbing at the pot in his hands, and David comes up behind him to gently pull it away from him. He pushes Matteo back a step and turns off the water and set the dish aside. “Are you okay?” He asks, gripping the sides of Matteo’s face. 

Matteo doesn’t look at him, just looks down at the floor, and there’s a spot there, a speckle of dust that he hadn’t gotten. Maybe they needed a new broom. Or maybe he was just a lazy, lousy, good for nothing-

“Matteo?” David tips his head up to try and look in his eyes a little better. “Hey, Matteo, look at me.” Matteo quickly looks up for a split second before forcing his eyes back down as low as he could with the way that David was holding onto him. He didn’t have it in him to see the disappointment in the job he did, in the way there was still dust on the floor. “Monkey, what’s going on?” 

“Sorry,” Matteo mumbled. 

“Don’t apologize. I just want to know what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing,” Matteo said, shaking his head a little. “Let’s just go back to bed.” 

He goes to pull away, and David pushes him back. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he repeats. 

“Do you think Sandy actually liked Danny?“ Matteo mumbles out after a minute, thinking about checkered floors and people who settled too low.

“Wh- I don’t understand.” 

“Do you think Sandy realizes Danny isn’t good eventually?” He asks, begging him to understand because the words aren’t coming out right right now, and he thinks that he might still be on the ceiling, too high to be heard right, still not making any sense when it matters. 

“Are you- Are you talking about _Grease_?” 

“What if Sandy just liked that Danny was paying attention to her, but she eventually realizes that he’s not good enough for her, that- that he’s just lazy?” 

“Oh, _no_. Oh, _Matteo_,” David chokes out and pulls Matteo tight into his chest, grips into the back of his shirt and the back of his neck, and it burns, burns so sweet that Matteo melts into it. “I didn’t mean that. I was just joking. I don’t think you’re lazy at all, Matteo. You gotta know that. You’re working so hard right now. You deserve a day off. You’re not lazy.” 

“Sorry,” Matteo mumbles again. 

“None of that now,” David says and pulls Matteo back just to rest their foreheads together, and Matteo likes that, likes the way that David’s fingers are pressing into the knots in his neck and he doesn’t really have to look at him right now, but still gets him close. “None of that. You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing… Do you wanna go back to bed?” 

Matteo nodded, and they shuffled together back to their room. David laid awake until morning rubbing at the raw skin on Matteo’s knuckles and thinking about throwing away their broom.


End file.
